by Jaycee Clark
The questions were a whirlwind around him, fired quickly and jumbled. He squeezed her until squeals of protest sounded and then he set his niece on the floor.
“Now, you little hoyden, be quiet so I can introduce you to someone.” He turned and noticed Ryan standing by Taylor just behind him. He stepped to the side. “Tori, this is my friend Taylor Reese and her son, Ryan. I hope you can show him how friendly we Kinncaids are and how much fun we can have over the weekend.”
“Pops was right,” Tori said on a sigh.
Gavin didn’t even ask.
“Probably a woman,” his niece finished.
The four at the couches tried unsuccessfully to hide their snickers. Gavin merely raised a brow at his father, who was staring out a darkened window that was at least ten feet away. Gavin rested his gaze on Taylor. Both her brows rose in question, even as he caught the slight narrowing of her eyes.
“Yeah, well, Pops was almost right,” Gavin clarified.
“Hi, Ryan.” Tori’s dark bob bounced as she walked to the new kid. “I’m Tori, well, Victoria, but no one calls me that unless I’m in trouble. Brayden’s my dad.” She pointed out which person in the room she belonged to. “I was playing in the music room.”
Ryan’s eyes widened before he asked, “Music room? I don’t remember seeing that before.”
“Yes. It’s a room filled with instruments. I was practicing the piano.”
“You play the piano?” Ryan asked.
“Yes. I’ve taken lessons for years.”
“How old are you?” Ryan wanted to know.
Gavin saw the other adults were as interested in this child conversation as he was.
“Seven, almost eight. Why?” Tori’s tilt of head reminded him of his mother’s when she wasn’t certain if she would like the answer.
Ryan shrugged. “I just wondered. I play the violin.”
It was Tori’s turn to look wide-eyed. “You do? I was practicing a piece I want to play for my recital. How long have you played the violin?”
“Not long.”
“What piece is that, Tori Bori?” Gavin asked her.
“Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.”
That sounded hard for her age, but he knew better than to voice such a thought. Kinncaids were proud people regardless of sex or age. “Hmmm. Why that one?”
Her small shoulders shrugged. “I heard Grams playing it and wanted to learn it and I did. Well, mostly. I still have some things to work out.”
“I played that in Austin,” Ryan confided.
“Cool. Did you bring your violin? We could play it together if you remember. Put on our own show.” Tori’s smile was like her grandmother’s, with a single dimple in her right cheek.
Ryan shook his head and didn’t say anything else.
“That’s okay. There are a couple of violins in there. No one plays them though, so I don’t know if they work very well. Would you know?”
The boy lifted one shoulder. “Probably.”
“Well, come on then.” Tori pulled him towards the door. “Maybe we can put on a show or something. I bet . . .”
His niece’s voice faded, and Gavin noticed not once did Ryan look back. Progress often came from unexpected places. He shook his head even as Taylor came up to stand with him.
“Is that all right? Him playing one of the instruments?” she asked.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t want . . .”
Gavin put his finger against her lips. “Hush. I know whatever you say will only insult me or my family and I don’t want to hear it. Imposition, uninvited, rude—whatever word you were going to use. Just don’t.”
Her brown eyes lightened with emotion, turning an amber color rich and golden with specks of moss. The shift in their depths made him want to kiss her, replace his finger resting against her mouth with his own lips. But he figured the fire burning in her eyes was not for the same reason. She’d been pissed at him all evening. Not that he cared. Stay at a hotel—absolutely not. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“You’re still mad at me.”
She shook her head and he moved his hand.
“Yeah, you are.”
“Can you blame me? There I was telling Sergeant Bachall and Morris where we’d stay and you come charging in like . . . like . . .”
“Gallahad?” he supplied.
Her droll look only made him keep on.
“Lancelot?” he tried again.
This time she rolled her eyes.
“Cu Chulainn?” He lilted his ls like he’d heard since childhood.
“Cu—what?”
“Cu Chulainn.” Gavin sounded it out for her. Coo-HOOL-in. “He was an Irish warrior, rode in a chariot.”
Taylor shook her head, and as he’d hoped, her dimples peaked out. “You’re impossible. Irish warriors? Please.”
Something shifted again in her eyes, and he saw the worry and tension in them. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Are you certain you’re all right?” A damn tire iron. He couldn’t get past that.
She pulled her lower lip in; he noticed she did that quite a bit this evening. Must be a worry habit.
“He hasn’t called, Gavin,” she told him.
“Who?” Gavin asked, leading her to one of the chairs by the couch.
“Bachall, or Morris either for that matter. He said he’d check with Gatesville and call me back.” Taylor sat in the chair and he sat on the arm beside her. “Why hasn’t he called yet? How long can it take to see if she’s there? Either she’s there or she’s not. God, what if she’s not?”
“I’m sure everything’s fine.” He’d make certain it was.
Her look wanted to know how he knew that.
“So,” Brayden asked, “what took so long? You called almost three hours ago.” He grabbed a hand full of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth.
Gavin looked to Taylor. He’d rile her some more. “I was busy rescuing damsels in distress.”
That got a reaction out of her.
“I would like to make it clear I am not, nor have I ever been, anyone’s damsel to rescue or otherwise.” Her eyes flashed at him even though her voice remained calm.
“Oooo.” Aiden laughed out. Brayden followed with a whining sound of a downing airplane before he rumbled, what Gavin assumed to be, an explosion.
Someone, Jess, he figured, murmured, “Crashed and burned.”
Gavin ignored them and leaned down so that his arm rested on the back of the chair, letting his fingers play with strands of her hair. “Now, Taylor, come on, tell the truth. You were happy to see me.”
Smiling herself, she retorted, “At that point I would have been happy to see Charles.”
That wasn’t funny, not one damn bit.
“Who’s Charles?” Christian asked.
“Never mind,” Gavin answered.
“Wow, I sense a tangled story here,” Jesslyn said. “Maybe this will be more entertaining than Notorious.”
“God, we can hope,” Aiden said.
All the men agreed, as they didn’t exactly care for chick flicks, let alone some old sappy black and white.
An argument started up about movies and what wager the men had lost. Insults were thrown and tossed along with popcorn. Gavin was starving. Taylor, he noticed, was quiet, but tentatively joined the conversation.
“Here you are, laddy.” Gavin turned at the sound of Becky’s Irish voice. She carried a tray piled high with food.
“Becky, why won’t you marry me?” he asked the plump, gray-haired housekeeper while he made his way to her. Taking the tray with one hand, he gave her a one-arm hug. The little woman barely reached his chest.
Smells rose up from the selections on the tray: sandwiches, fruit, salad, cheese, and cookies. The last made him want to forget the rest. “Cookies? You made cookies? You have to put me out of my misery, Becky, and be mine.”
“Ah, be off with ye. Scoundrel that ye are.” Her rosy
cheeks plumped when she smiled.
He looked at her then. “I’m sorry for being so short and rude on the phone earlier.”
She waved him off. “What with the break-in and all there’s no apologizing necessary, but I appreciate the gesture all the same. Right proud I am of ye.”
“Break-in?” Jock barked. “Becky, what are you talking about?”
Becky and his father had a love-hate relationship. Each went out of their way to rub, jab, or barb the other, and both loved every minute. The housekeeper simply huffed a sigh, ignored Jock and looked back to Gavin. He caught everyone staring at them out of the corner of his eye.
“The young ones were prattling on about it to your mum. Poor little tyke. Bastard. Pardon me, but they are. Killed his violin, he said, and could have bashed your head in too,” she said to Taylor. “Shame it is, what the world has come to. A shame.” Shaking her head, she turned to Taylor then. “I assume you’re Taylor? The little lad’s mum?” Becky was already nodding to her own question. “Ye just don’t worry about a thing. We’ll take right good care of ye, we will. Won’t we, Gavin, me boy?” The last was asked to him with a twinkle in her eye as she introduced herself to Taylor.
Bless Becky’s heart. “Indeed, Becky, we will.”
“Are ye all right?” she asked Taylor.
“Yes, thank you,” Taylor said with a small smile.
“Did they really kill his violin?” Becky asked, directing her question to him instead of Taylor.
Gavin was aware they had everyone’s undivided attention. There was no privacy in this family. Everyone knew everything sooner or later. He sighed and rubbed his chin. “Yeah, they, or rather he, did. Busted and broke it up, along with all the rest of Taylor’s house.”
Becky tsked, and patted Taylor’s arm. “Not to worry, dearie. Things’ll work out. They always do. Shame though.” She turned to leave. “Kaitie’ll be along in a minute. She’s in the music room tuning on the fiddles.”
Becky left and Gavin placed the tray on the coffee table before he plopped down on the floor, leaning back against Taylor’s chair. He tore into his food, eating what he wanted and leaving the rest.
On a sigh, he draped an arm over Taylor’s crossed legs and finished answering the questions bombarding from everyone in the room. Some Taylor answered, several he did.
At last the story was told and Gavin learned where they needed to go tomorrow to find Ryan a new violin. Brayden said he and Tori might go with them, and since Brayden knew where the music store was, Gavin agreed.
Earlier he hadn’t noticed what Taylor was wearing, too much had happened, too many thoughts and emotions running high, but now he couldn’t help but notice. Her pants were soft, pale beige linen. Just as her foot kept tapping, his fingers kept up their lazy patterns on her calf. Strange, he hadn’t even noticed he was doing that until his finger ran low at one point and her foot stilled. Then he’d noticed.
The others decided to start the movie and he craned his head back when Taylor tapped high on his shoulder.
What would her fingers feel like on his neck? Last night when they’d kissed, she’d wrapped her arm around him, but he wondered what her fingers playing on his skin would feel like. There was a thought.
The woman kissed like a siren, or what he imagined one would kiss like. Gavin had thought of her kiss all damn day long, and it was one long day. Her mouth, soft and warm, her tongue, quick and tantalizing, her taste, ahhh . . .
“I think I should go check on Ryan,” she told him in that calm, soft voice of hers.
“Hmm . . .” Here he was thinking of kissing the woman, and she was, understandably, thinking of other things.
Music floated down the hall and into the family room. Gavin smiled, bent his elbow, curving his forearm back up her leg so that his hand cupped her knee.
“I think things are fine,” he told her, tracing a slow circle with his thumb on the inside of her knee. Her light brown eyes deepened just a bit, or maybe it was a play of light. But then she shivered. Gavin winked at her, then turned around as Notorious started.
Though several of the notes were enharmonic and stilted, two fiddles danced slowly down the hallway in a familiar Irish reel.
Chapter 9
Taylor cut through the warm dark water, smooth and silent. At the end of the pool, she slicked her hair back from her face before propping her elbows on the ledge. Her chin rested on her stacked hands and she watched the nightlife around her. The rain had finally stopped. Clouds still blanketed the moon before skirting into the midnight sky.
The Kinncaids were an incredible family. She had yet to pin everyone down. Aiden and Jesslyn and their twins were happy and funny; the newness of their lives together was lost in the ease she noticed between them. Brayden was quiet and reserved, as was Christian. Taylor got the impression from their bantering that something might be going on between the two of them.
Tori and Ryan seemed to have clicked, which surprised her. The little girl and her son spent the rest of the evening in the music room practicing various pieces of music.
Water splashed as she flicked an ankle out behind her. Pushing off from the side, she floated on her back, letting her gaze travel the inky velvet of the clouded sky.
So whom did that leave? There were two brothers she had yet to meet. Quinlan, who was labeled the workaholic. And another brother that she could have sworn Gavin had mentioned before, but who hadn’t been mentioned tonight.
Then, there were the parents. Jock and Kaitlyn were an interesting couple. Jock was, as Gavin described him, all bluster.
After the movie held no one’s attention, everyone just sort of migrated down to the music room and Mr. Kinncaid’s true colors had shown as he’d held one of the twin babies and teased Tori. Seeing him play so openly and easily with the kids had warmed her over and had eased Ryan somewhat. Though, to be honest, Ryan wasn’t exactly at ease with anything.
Kaitlyn was the show runner. That much Taylor figured out. The mistress of the house had given Taylor’s son a temporary fiddle to borrow until he found another one. Then she’d dug out all of her “old fiddlin’ tunes,” as she’d called them, and played a few for everyone.
Taylor couldn’t remember an evening spent, in the form of family time with more than two people, in . . . well, since her parents had died. What a depressing thought. Here she was almost thirty and had no husband, no extended family, and no hope for one.
But she had an amazing son.
An incredible, musically gifted son, if tonight was any indication. He and Kaitlyn had really gotten into some of those Irish music pieces. Taylor smiled to herself.
Ryan was all the family she needed.
Earlier, after she’d known he was asleep, she’d walked out on the balcony to see the pool below. Kaitlyn and Gavin had told her to make herself at home. Didn’t really sound plausible to her, but the pool had been entirely too inviting. As a child and a young girl, she’d loved to swim after a rain had cooled the air and water off.
She’d given in to the temptation and pulled out the swimsuit Gavin had said she’d need for the weekend and quickly donned it. Not wanting to wake anyone, she’d left all the lights off. Besides, she didn’t know where the switches were anyway. The slight nervous feeling that she shouldn’t be out here kept her from truly enjoying her swim, and she tried to push the thought away. She knew what Gavin would say to that, if he said anything after rolling his eyes.
Gavin. There was a thought. Taylor had no idea where they had been heading before. That they were more than friends had to be clearly evident to the blind—which none of his family were. If his arm over her legs didn’t shout that little fact to his family and to her, then in the music room would have answered any doubts they might have had left. The man had kissed her there in front of God and everyone. Not a kiss like they’d shared the night before, granted. A simple kiss that had still managed to make her stomach riot, as he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him while the music h
ad danced on the air.
But still a kiss.
Of course, everyone had to pop off some smart-assed comment then. Well, Aiden and Jess did. Brayden and Christian only shook their heads, and Jock . . . well, Taylor knew now where Gavin inherited his supercilious lift of brow. Kaitlyn only smiled, a single dimpled smile at her.
Taylor moved her arms, keeping afloat. Water caressed her bare stomach.
The sky shifted, allowing the moon to periodically peek out on the world below. She turned back over to swim a bit more before heading in.
Four laps later, she sensed someone was watching her. Taylor dipped under the water and heard the splash as someone else joined her in the pool. Surfacing, Taylor wiped the water out of her eyes. Her feet didn’t touch the bottom.
“Hello?” No one had surfaced yet, and the water absorbed the night so that only the shadows of the shifting waves were visible.
A tingle ran up her spine. She thought of the masked man earlier and shivered again. Someone jerked her ankle, and water rushed in her mouth as her yell was cut off before it even started.
Taylor came up sputtering and coughing to hear his deep chuckle behind her.
She whirled, angry at being frightened.
“Not funny.” Taylor glared at him and swam to the side, where she gripped the edge and pulled herself out to sit on the lip. Now she could kick him.
Gavin swam up to her. His face was shadowed, but she’d been out here long enough for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. White teeth flashed in his crooked grin. Damn the man. Her heartbeat would never be the same.
“You scared the tar out of me.”
His elbow grazed and stayed against her thigh as he rested them on the lip.
“I got that.” His voice was made for the night.
“Did you now?” she asked. The only sound was the soft lap of water. “The idea of the masked man with the tire iron flew through my brain.”
“Sorry.” A silent moment stretched between them. “I’ve been watching you for a while,” he said, lowering his voice. Definitely for the night. His voice could tempt a nun to sin.
Taylor licked her lips.
